


Guarded Borders

by JJJunky



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJunky/pseuds/JJJunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie and Doyle are caught behind enemy lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guarded Borders

Guarded Borders  
By JJJunky

Tag to "Fall Girl."

 

Cemeteries always depressed Doyle. In the CID and then CI5, he'd stood beside the graves of too many good agents who'd died too hard and too young. It wasn't apprehension over the fragility of his own life chilling his soul, it was fear. A fear that one day one of the granite headstones would bear the name of his partner, William Andrew Philip Bodie.

Hunching his shoulders against the bitter cold of the late fall air, Doyle walked slowly across the neglected ground. It didn't surprise him that the cemetery had stagnated, the same could be said for much of the country. Buildings destroyed by allied bombers during WWII lay where they had fallen. No effort had been made to clear the debris and rebuild, those structures that had survived the war showed their age and lack of maintenance. Even the new buildings looked cheap and uncared for.

When his foot slipped in the mud, Doyle didn't slow his ascent of the small hill, he merely adjusted his assault by walking slightly sideways. He didn't want time to contemplate his actions. How would Bodie react when he saw his partner? After Marikka's body had been put on a plane to be flown home to a little town in the northern section of East Germany for internment in the family plot, Bodie had disappeared. Cowley placed a discreet search of all the airlines' and passenger ships' manifests. When he'd discovered the destination of his errant agent, he'd immediately sent Doyle packing - orders which coincided with Doyle's own plans.

The figure stood motionless at the top of the hill. If it wasn't for the black trenchcoat protecting him from the elements, he might have been a statue himself. Doyle stopped a few feet from his partner. His eyes weren't on the headstone holding the man entranced, but on the blank face jealously guarding the emotions of the person trapped inside. "This isn't the smartest thing you've ever done, Bodie."

"Still following me, Ray?" Bodie demanded, his voice more tired than condemning.

"I'd follow you to the ends of the earth," Doyle unashamedly admitted, "if it'd keep you alive."

"Somebody had to be here for her. She didn't deserve to be alone."

Walking the last few steps to his partner's side, Doyle pointed out, "She was willing to give up everything for you. She wouldn't be happy that you've risked your life like this."

"I loved her, Ray." The voice cracked on the words, the only hint of emotion on the sculptured face.

Tears welled up, misting the green eyes. Dropping his gaze to the simple stone, Doyle whispered, "I know."

Off in the distance, sirens echoed through the rain laden air. Doyle ignored them as he tried to think of something he could say to comfort his friend. It was an unfamiliar position for him. In the past, Bodie had always buried his emotions, choosing to deal with them in his own way. But, this was one time Doyle knew he couldn't let his friend run off and hide; he might never reach him again. As he fought to find the words, he suddenly realized the sirens were drawing closer. Looking behind him, he saw the blue lights flashing through the trees as the cars entered the cemetery grounds.

"Bodie," Doyle grabbed his partner's arm, "we gotta go. They know we're here."

Doyle had taken only a few steps toward his rented car when he felt a tug on his jacket. "Not that way, Ray, this way."

Pulled toward the high fence surrounding the cemetery, Doyle protested, "Our cars are the other way."

"Everyone in the country will be looking for those license plates," Bodie reasoned. "Our only chance is to lose ourselves in the hills."

As Doyle trustingly followed his partner, he tried to remember the map he'd briefly studied in his quest for Bodie. After crossing into East Berlin at the Friedrichstrasse Gate, he'd headed north to Neustrilitz, which was almost dead center of the northern section of the country. South would take them to Berlin, north to the Baltic Sea and east to Russia - which was like going from the proverbial frying pan into a fire. Bodie headed west toward the West German border - seventy-five miles away.

* * * *

Shoulder to shoulder beneath the low lying branches of a massive oak tree, Doyle savored the warmth his partner transmitted to his chilled bones. But it wasn't just physical heat Bodie exuded, it was a sense of confidence that made Doyle believe they might actually escape. A tremendous feat even for those who'd grown up in East Germany.

In the enveloping darkness, Doyle found the courage to verbally confront his partner. "I know you might not believe me now, Bodie, but I hope you will one day. I never thought you were a traitor, neither did Marikka."

"When I saw her in your apartment," Bodie admitted after a slight hesitation, "I thought she was betraying me again."

"She was willing to defy Krieber and the KGB to save you," Doyle gently proclaimed, rubbing his hands together to try to generate some warmth in the frozen appendages.

A deep sigh of sadness whispered in the wind. In a voice barely loud enough to be heard, Bodie said, "I wish I'd known that then."

"It wasn't your fault, mate," soothed Doyle. "You were both pawns in a game you didn't know you were playing."

The distant sound of a car engine broke the peace of the late night. There was a quiver in the deep tones Doyle had never heard before as Bodie declared, "She almost gets me killed, not once, but twice and, yet, I still love her. Make sense out of that."

"The strange thing about love," Doyle ruefully noted, "is there are no rules to guide us."

Bodie sighed again. "It would sure make life easier if there were."

"Tell me about it!" Doyle heartily agreed.

The body against his was shaking. Doyle wasn't sure if it was with cold or sadness. He could readily sympathize with either cause.

"When I saw her that day in front of the hotel, I couldn't breath," Bodie related in a far away tone. "All the anger and hate I'd felt at her betrayal was gone - only love survived."

"Nothing could've come of it, she was married," Doyle sadly reminded his friend.

Pulling away as though he'd been burned, Bodie observed, "It was easy to forget that, especially when I discovered she still loved me."

"I know she did." The deep voice of the now dead woman protesting her lover's innocence echoed in Doyle's mind. "But there wasn't any future in that love. You knew that."

"I knew," Bodie acknowledged. "Unfortunately, you can't turn love on and off like a light switch. It's either in your heart or it's not. You can't create it and you can't fight it; you can only enjoy it even if it's for a short time."

Surprised by his normally reticent partner's admission, Doyle commented, "You've become a philosopher."

"Love has its own definition," Bodie absently replied. "One that can't be found in a dictionary - only in your heart."

Doyle wished his partner's face wasn't hidden in the darkness. This was a side of his friend he'd never seen before. Though he felt honored that Bodie felt comfortable enough to verbally express such personal beliefs in his presence, he also felt a profound sadness. The confidence had only occured as a result of the death of a vibrant young woman. The price had been too high.

* * * *

The sun shone brightly through the trees, but it provided little warmth to the two men huddled within the protection of their low hanging branches. Three days of walking and hiding had taken its toll. They were tired, dirty and - most of all - hungry. Bushes bore none of the fruit that had been so plentiful only weeks before. What hadn't already been picked by locals had been killed by frost. They didn't dare steal what they needed. It would be like a beacon, marking their position to the pursuing authorities. So, they went hungry.

A trunk of a tree giving him a support he could no longer give himself, Doyle asked, "How much further?"

"Maybe ten miles," Bodie approximated, scratching the three day growth of beard on his face, "'til we reach the river."

"Let's not forget the river." His eyes resting thoughtfully on his friend, Doyle whispered, "Do you really think we can ford it in our condition?"

"Have to, don't we?"

The answer was succinct and to the point, but it still left Doyle confused. "Why don't we head south and cross the border with dry land under our feet?"

"Because that dry land is patrolled by guards . . . ."

"And the river isn't?" demanded Doyle.

"It's patrolled by guards in boats," Bodie conceded. Shifting his gaze so his eyes could rest on his partner's tired face, he continued, "By land we'd also have to dodge dogs, cut through barbwire fences and cross a minefield."

"So I have a choice between drowning and being blown to bits," Doyle sardonically noted.

"And another day of hunger," added Bodie with a tilt to his lips that could almost be a smile. "It'll take us at least another night of walking to reach a place where we could cross."

Resting his head back against the rough bark of the tree, Doyle sighed. "Has anyone ever told you how much fun you are, mate?"

"Only the birds," responded Bodie, the smile on his lips reaching his eyes.

Even as he wondered if he was being insensitive to ask, Doyle appealed, "How did you meet Marikka?'

Bodie stiffened. As the smile disappeared from his friend's face, Doyle silently cursed himself for allowing his curiosity to cause Bodie pain.

"I was sent undercover to check on the Soviet build up of arms," explained Bodie his eyes focused on the hills beyond, yet obviously seeing another place in another time. "Marikka's brother was my contact."

"You said she betrayed you?" Doyle gently probed.

"Just answering a stranger's question can be dangerous in East Germany," Bodie haltingly revealed, the shadows under his eyes growing darker. "To harbor one is almost suicidal. Marikka turned me in to save her family, including her brother."

"But she loved you?" protested Doyle.

"Yes."

Wishing he had the strength to walk off his frustration, Doyle pleaded, "How could she do that?"

"You're a romantic, Ray," Bodie fondly noted. "Love is a luxury a person in East Germany can't afford. Survival is the main goal."

The glimpse into a world he'd never known left Doyle writhing in self-disgust. He'd been pompous and judgmental. Placed in the same circumstances, could he honestly say he'd have acted any differently? "How did you escape?"

"Marikka warned me," Bodie disclosed. "It was close, but I managed to cross the border before the guards were alerted."

"How could you still love her after she betrayed you?" Doyle knew he'd pressed too hard when Bodie turned his back on him.

"You better get some sleep," suggested the dark-haired man in a voice warning Doyle not to argue. "We have a rough night ahead."

* * * *

The moon slid behind some clouds, its muted glow the only light to guide them through the darkness. Sharp pains of hunger stabbed at Doyle's stomach. His wits dulled by exhaustion and an empty belly, he followed his partner's shadowy figure in a trusting daze.

A downed tree presented another obstacle to be conquered in their endless quest. Jealous of the ease with which Bodie jumped over the snarled base, Doyle put a hand on the rough bark and vaulted the height with a reckless abandon. The deterioration of his physical abilities was evident when his trailing leg caught on the edge of the stump. Tumbling to the ground, he felt - and heard - a bone in his ankle crack. Biting his lip he fought the urge to verbalize his pain - and possibly reveal their location to any passing local.

"Easy, Ray, I've got you."

Focusing his attention on the comforting tones of his partner's voice, Doyle gasped, "I really did it this time."

"Not to worry," soothed Bodie. "We haven't much further to go."

"You'll never make it carrying me," Doyle argued. "You'll have to go on alone."

"Not in this lifetime, Sunshine," Bodie indignantly stated, his gentle hand inspecting the damaged limb.

Despite the care he knew his partner was taking in his inspection, Doyle had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming. Anger in his voice directed toward himself, lashed out on Bodie, "Don't be stupid. There's no reason why we should both die. You have to go on without me."

Bodie drifted off into the surrounding darkness. Even as he felt relieved that his friend hadn't continued the argument, Doyle felt a pain having nothing to do with his ankle or his stomach. Bodie had deserted him.

Almost as quickly as he'd disappeared, the dark-haired man reappeared. Tears blurred Doyle's vision as he tried to put an anger he no longer felt in his protest. "I thought you'd left."

"After all these years, I thought you trusted me," Bodie tonelessly stated, putting two branches he'd collected on either side of the broken ankle.

"I did… I do," Doyle quickly amended. "I just don't want you to get yourself killed by being stupid and trying to carry me."

"I don't think I'm being stupid," Bodie asserted.

Hearing the hurt in the low voice, Doyle regretted the pain his thoughtless phrasing had inflicted. "You know I don't think you're stupid, Bodie. I have a tendency to talk before I think."

"Even words spoken without conviction have the power to hurt," Bodie pointed out.

Without warning, Bodie snapped the broken ends of the bone together. Holding it firmly in place with one hand, he used the other to move the branches against the leg. With the belt from his raincoat, he wrapped the splint in place.

Momentarily breathless, Doyle fought to remain conscious against the waves of pain radiating up his leg. When he finally had the ability to speak once more, he whispered, "I'm sorry, not just for this time, but for all the awful things I've said over the years. You know I don't mean them."

"I know Ray, it's all right," Bodie comforted, white teeth glistening in the moonlight showing that he was smiling. "Just don't suggest I leave you behind again."

Doyle returned his partner's smile though he wasn't sure Bodie could see it. "All I can do is promise that I'll try not to be so thoughtless in the future."

"I know it's asking a lot," Bodie facetiously replied, "but your efforts will not go unnoticed, my son."

* * * *

Another beautiful, sunny day had given way to a cold, rainy night. A headache making his temples throb, Doyle looked down into the swiftly flowing river. A scant quarter of a mile away lay freedom and its promise of warmth and food. While Bodie scouted downstream for a place to cross, Doyle contemplated the wisdom of their actions. Three days without food had left both men weak with aching heads and stomach cramps. 

A rustle of a bush warned Doyle of Bodie's return. Hoping his pain wasn't audible in his voice, he asked, "What did you find?"

"Nothing," Bodie disgustedly snorted, "it's too dark to see the bank on the other side. If it's as steep as this one, we may have trouble finding a way up."

Disappointed, Doyle urged, "You got any other ideas?"

"Not a one," admitted Bodie, wiping off the drops of rain running down his face.

"Then let's do it," suggested Doyle, trying to struggle to his feet, "before we lose the cover of darkness."

Bodie's shoulder was supporting him once again as Doyle cautiously made his way to the bank of the Elbe River. Sitting on the edge of the steep embankment, the two men slid down the rocky slope. By the time he reached the bottom, Doyle was sure there was more mud on his clothes than had been left on the hill. With a final glance at his partner, he dove into the turbulent river.

The cold water took his breath away, leaving him gasping. Instinct, rather than conscious thought, brought his arms out of the water and made his legs start kicking. While the rest of him was numb with cold, his sore leg burned with a pain that left him weak. Each stroke was a new experience in agony.

He never consciously gave up, but his body did. As he floated along with the current, Doyle sent a silent apology to his partner. Surrendering to fate, he allowed his mind to go blank. By the time he realized he was no longer alone, he had already been turned over and was being towed toward the bank. Finding a hidden strength, he angrily thrashed the water. "Bodie, let me go; I'll kill us both!"

"You will if you don't stop fighting me," agreed Bodie.

Despair washed over Doyle, much like the water of the river. He knew in his heart and in his mind Bodie wasn't going to let him go. Why was he surprised? Forcing himself to relax, he made it as easy as he could for his partner.

A rumbling in his ears went unnoticed at first, attributed to the cold and exhaustion. Thus, a few precious minutes were wasted before Doyle realized the noise was being made by an approaching boat. Tugging at the arm under his chin, he cried, "Bodie, there's a patrol boat coming."

Bodie tread water as both men studied the slow moving craft. Two searchlights continually swept the river from bank to bank, one forward and one aft. In between, a tarp covered the unmistakable shape of a machine gun.

"We'll have to go underwater," decided Bodie. "Go down as far as you can for as long as you can."

Nodding his understanding, Doyle took several short, even breaths before filling his lungs with the crisp night air. The spotlight was only a few feet away when he followed his partner into the inky black depths.

Doyle's lungs felt like they were going to burst when hands seized the lapels of his jacket and pulled him upwards. Reflex made him take a breath before he broke the surface. Fighting an instinctive panic, Doyle willed himself not to take another until the cold wind blew against his face. Finally able to cough the water out of his nose and mouth, he prayed his distress had been muffled by the noise of the boat's engines.

"Are you all right, Ray?" demanded Bodie, the anxiety in his voice clearly audible.

"I will be," croaked Doyle, gratefully breathing in the moist night air. "We never got to swim much where I grew up, so I'm not very good at holding my breath."

"It was much the same for me," Bodie surprisingly admitted, turning Doyle on his back and resuming their journey to the bank. Realizing they would need all their strength to reach the safety of the shore, both men fell silent. This time, Bodie was on the side away from Doyle's good leg. Free to use it without impeding his partner's efforts, Doyle kicked with all the fervor his exhausted body could muster. Time swept along with the river as he concentrated his efforts in aiding his friend.

"Grab hold, Ray," ordered Bodie.

The command was incomprehensible to the dazed man until Doyle's flailing hand scraped across water-smoothed rock. Turning on his stomach, he took a firm grip on the rounded edges of a bolder.

* * * *

Doyle struggled through the door, the crutches and a cast spanning the length of his right knee to his ankle made even the simplest task difficult. What kept him going was his frustration and anger. In the week since they'd returned from Germany, Bodie hadn't visited him once either in hospital or at his flat. Doyle had decided that whatever had come between the two friends would fester no longer. Today, that friendship would resume its interrupted course - or it would die.

The door slammed shut behind Doyle, making him feel as though he was entombed inside the apartment building. To combat the sepulchral feeling, he tackled the two flights of stairs that would take him to Bodie's flat. Deliberately fueling his anger, he assaulted the obstacle laying between him and his goal with a fervor that threatened the longevity of his cast.

By the time he reached his destination, sweat beaded his brow and trickled down under the cast, making his leg itch. Ignoring the irritation, he leaned his shoulder against the doorbell. It was an act that he knew would annoy his partner - which is why he did it. As the old saying goes, misery loves company.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Bodie demanded throwing open his door, obviously primed to confront the idiot stupid enough to lean on his bell. The anger quickly evaporated wiping all emotion from the handsome face. Only the stormy blue eyes showed any life as they settled on his partner. "Oh, it's you."

"Nice to see you, too, Sunshine," grumbled Doyle.

Bodie turned away, reentering his apartment without another word. Though there had been no verbal invitation to enter, the door had been left open, giving Doyle all the encouragement he needed.

By the time he'd maneuvered himself through the narrow opening and secured it, Bodie was nowhere to be seen. A quick search of the small flat found the younger man in the living room staring out the window.

Fear stabbed at Doyle as he regarded the slumped shoulders. Had they grown so far apart the friendship was irretrievable? Feeling his resolve slipping away, Doyle hastily demanded, "Didn't we settle this in East Germany? I thought you realized I hadn't betrayed you."

"I always knew you wouldn't betray me," Bodie eventually replied in a voice barely loud enough to be heard.

"Always?" a skeptical Doyle demanded. "That's not the impression I got when you shoved that SLR into my chest."

A hint of a smile could be seen reflecting off the glass as Bodie acknowledged, "Well, maybe not always."

"Then what's wrong?" A weary Doyle requested, easing himself down into a chair. "Why have you barely spoken a word to me since we were rescued?"

An oppressive silence greeted the inquiry. A silence with a volume that made Doyle's head ache. Other sounds filled the void. The backfire of a car engine on the street below. The slam of a door closing behind the occupant of another flat in the building. His partner's labored breathing.

"You shouldn't have needed to be rescued." The hesitantly spoken admission made Doyle's heart feel as though the life was being squeezed out of it. "I'm the one who deceived you."

Though he was afraid Bodie wouldn't believe him, Doyle spoke with an assurance that he felt in his soul as well as in his mind, "You could never delude me."

"I almost got you killed," Bodie angrily pointed out, turning to face his friend for the first time. "You wouldn't have been in East Germany if I hadn't been there."

"That's true," Doyle thoughtfully agreed, knowing if he did anything less, he would be insulting his partner's intelligence.

Bodie crossed to sit on the sofa facing the curly-haired man. "I'm supposed to protect your back, and I almost got you killed."

"You couldn't know I would follow you," placated Doyle.

Dropping his head into his hands, Bodie protested, "I should've guessed."

"You were in love," soothed Doyle, leaning forward to place a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "A man in love doesn't always think straight - believe me, I know."

"People like us can't afford the luxury of love," observed Bodie. "It could get someone killed."

Doyle dropped his eyes. He didn't want Bodie to see the tears blinding his vision. This man risked his life almost every day for people he didn't even know so they could enjoy the wonders life had to offer. Wonders he felt he had to deny himself to do his job. Now he sat in object misery, berating himself for what he saw as a lapse in duty.

Gently squeezing the shoulder beneath his hand, Doyle whispered, "Welcome to the human race, Bodie."


End file.
